


Adamant

by Lyviel



Series: Inquisitor Elden [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9161440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyviel/pseuds/Lyviel
Summary: I’ve been wanting to write some post-Adamant angst for some time now so here ya go. I feel like I should do more for this, Adamant was such a traumatic event and I always feel like I’m not doing it justice, but I’ll start here at least. I'm marking this as complete for now because I don't really have any ideas for what else I could do.





	

The cold night air burned Dorian’s lungs but he didn’t care. It was a welcome relief from the stale and putrid Fade and he gasped greedily as he pulled free of the rift into the realm of the living once again. He barely heard the clash of weapons around him through the pounding in his ears as he tried to regain his senses. He forced himself to focus, to actually look around. He was back in the courtyard at Adamant, Inquisition troops all around, still battling demons and possessed Wardens. Dorian kept turning, scanning every inch until he had spun completely around and was looking back towards the rift but he still didn’t see what he was looking for.

The Inquisitor wasn’t here.

He had been right behind him, hadn't he? So why wasn’t he here? Was he-- was he still in the Fade? Dorian stared, horror pooling in his stomach as he went cold, the pounding of his heart deafening now, but still Elden didn’t come through. His legs nearly gave out but he forced himself to take a shaky step forward, not really sure what he was planning. No,he knew exactly what he had to do. If Elden was still in there he had to get to him. Immediately. He felt a hand on his arm and he tried to pull free but the grip was like iron.

“Let go of me,” he snapped, spinning to confront whoever it was, ready to call up whatever magic remained in him to fight to get to Elden’s side.

“Just wait a moment,” Cassandra said, not releasing him. “Give him time.”

Dorian wanted to scoff (sob). Time? The more time went by the more likely Elden was to end up dead. After everything they had already gone through, to leave Elden behind in that blighted nightmare to suffer through even more of it alone-- Dorian couldn't let that happen. He snarled but before he could speak there was a green flash and suddenly Elden was there.

For a moment Dorian could see the terror in his eyes, the exhaustion and all the marks of the horrors they had experienced. He could see the sadness there too and when only the Warden stepped out behind him, Dorian knew. But then all of that was gone. Elden was the Inquisitor, standing strong as he ripped the portal closed and everything went still as all eyes turned to him.

-

The battle at Adamant was over but it certainly didn’t feel that way. Not all of them had escaped the Fade and Dorian didn’t really want to think about anything that had happened there. None of them did. It was a grim precession that headed back to camp. Inquisition troops were cheering but the Wardens seemed to be of a similar mood as the Inquisitor’s small group. They had lost many good men and women after all.

Could this really be called a win when they had been confronted with their greatest fears as well as a demon none of them had any hope of defeating? They were alive, true, but if that thing was allied with Corypheus, none of them really wanted to think about what they were up against.

Dorian kept stealing glances at the Inquisitor but his expression was unreadable. But Dorian had seen his expression when he’d first come through, that unmistakable fear in his eyes before he’d quickly locked it away, and all Dorian wanted to do was wrap his arms around him and just hold him. He didn’t know how Elden was handling all of this but Dorian felt like he was being shaken apart and nothing could be right until he could feel Elden, know he was here and alive and safe. Dorian had come so close to losing him and he couldn’t, he just couldn’t. Still, Dorian didn’t risk speaking until they had made it back to camp.

“Inquisitor?”

Elden turned to him and he looked so exhausted, covered in blood and grime, and Dorian was tempted to pull him into his tent right then and there, Maker be damned who was watching, and keep him there until they were both ready to face the world again. But then the advisors arrived. Elden gave an apologetic nod and the mask of the Inquisitor slipped firmly back into place, all business, and Dorian could only watch him go.

For now anyway. Elden had to retire eventually and however he was handling it, Dorian didn’t want him to be alone (and he didn’t want to be alone). Surely the advisors wouldn’t keep him long. Dorian hurried back to his tent, cleaning up as quickly as he could before throwing on clean robes. After a moment’s hesitation he threw a cloak over his shoulders as well.

He wasn’t completely sure how it would be taken if someone saw the Tevinter sneaking into the Inquisitor’s tent, now of all times. There was no way for anyone except the inner circle to know of the horrors they had seen so it was doubtful it would look as though he was going to comfort the Inquisitor. Besides, if he was being completely honest with himself, it was likely to be more the other way around.

Would it be seen as a celebratory romp, then, perhaps? Either way it could get the rumors flowing and Elden had better things to worry about. So Dorian pulled the hood low over his face and headed back out into the night. Luckily he was surprisingly good at skulking in the shadows and sneaking into beds.

-

Adamant. What could Elden even say to truly express what had happened there? Despair and desperation and through it all a pure sort of terror. Elden wanted to say it was beyond anything he had ever experienced but he had his memories of the Conclave back now. He’d told Justinia, or the spirit that had taken her form or whatever she had been, that he thought it might be a mercy to have fears and memories taken away but he knew now that she had been right. He hadn’t been able to heal and now it was all threatening to drown him at once. That was why the demon hadn’t minded when he reclaimed them.

He wasn’t the Herald and he hadn’t been sent by Andraste. He had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and somehow he had become Inquisitor. How had things gotten so out of hand? The Maker wasn’t leading them and the only place Elden could possibly bring them on his own was to their doom. He’d seen the end of the world at Redcliffe. Sure, they had avoided that particular future thanks to Dorian, but the idea that they had simply delayed the inevitable was becoming more and more likely.

That wasn’t even taking into account the power of that demon. And Hawke! Maker, he’d just left her there, saving himself like a coward. Elden hated the anchor, hated the knowledge that he had to live, that he always had to put his life before so many good people.

Elden was curled tightly in on himself, covered in a cold sweat unable to get warm no matter how deeply he burrowed into his sleeping bag. Every time he closed his eyes he’d see that demon, see Hawke and the dead Wardens and the nightmares, and he knew there would be no sleep for him tonight. He could leave, go train or sit by the fire and maybe know what it was like to feel warm again, but he could feel tears stinging his eyes and he refused to be seen like this, for everyone to know just how weak their leader truly was. He buried his face in his pillow, determined not to break down, not now. Maker, why was he so weak?

The sound of the tent flap rustling as someone entered startled him out of his thoughts and he flinched, curling more tightly in on himself.

“It’s only me, amatus,” he heard Dorian say.

He was relieved at first. He had wanted to be close to him so badly ever since they had escaped the Fade, but he didn’t want Dorian to see him like this either. More than anyone else he didn’t want to disappoint him at very least. But it seemed he couldn't even do that much.

“I would have come sooner but you seem to have quite a few guards loitering about,” Dorian said, rambling a bit. “They are very persistent, I’ll give them that.” He felt Dorian sit beside him and a hand reached out to rest on his shoulder but Elden didn’t turn to look at him. “Amatus? Are you all right?” Dorian asked, concern evident in his voice.

With a sinking heart Elden realized he was shaking. “Fine,” he said quickly, unwilling to trust his voice with more. He felt Dorian lay down beside him, wrapping his arm around from behind and Elden had to bite his lip to keep himself from breaking down. Why wasn’t he stronger? He needed to be so much stronger. They were silent for a time until Elden finally managed to get his voice under control. “What’s happening, Dorian? How can I possibly--”.

“That’s enough,” Dorian said gently as he placed kiss after kiss to the back of his neck. “We’ll find a way. We have to.”

Finally Elden turned to face him but lost all words upon seeing Dorian. From the look of him, hair and mustache mussed, he’d barely taken the time to clean up before rushing off to find him. His eyes were red, too, perhaps just as red as Elden’s, and he looked just as afraid. Elden wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, realizing he was shaking too as he kissed him. They simply clung to each other desperately, like somehow that could chase it all away if only they could get close enough.

Some time during the night Elden was sure he hear Dorian whisper, “We’re all right, we’re both all right,”as if he was trying to convince himself just as much as Elden.


End file.
